Denial Is Just a River In Egypt
by HistoryIsImmortal
Summary: Post season 3. Elena has the worst hangover. Or so she thinks. A more humorous look on Elena's transition. T for smoking. Ultimately, focused on Elena and Elijah but also features Stefan, Damon and Caroline. Three parts. Just for fun!
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Elena has the worst hangover. Or so she thinks. Post season 3._

* * *

**Denial Is Just a River In Egypt**

**1**

_Oh, good God in Heaven,_ Elena thinks as she twists around for the umpteenth time, trying to find just a small stretch of her bed sheets that aren't all hot and clammy. _What on earth did we do last night?_

She, for one, has absolutely no memory of it.

…which might explain the ultimate hangover she's having.

This is truly of nuclear proportions – the shivers, sweaty palms, thirst, headache… _Lord,_ what a ruler of all headaches she has; sick in the stomach, every single sound seems to be magnified by a thousand… need she say more?

When she finally can't take it anymore, she throws aside the covers and drags her limp body out of bed.

The world is too bright. Elena has to narrow her eyes because it feels like the light would otherwise pierce through her head like a laser beam.

She hobbles to the window to pry it open. She needs fresh air. _Now._ But of course it won't yield to her weak, trembling fingers. The world has a love-hate relationship with drunkards. Matt used to say it.

"Jeremy?" she yells hoarsely and prays he is somewhere around. "Please, oh, _please_ bring me water and aspirin!"

Not a sound. _Dammit._

Elena stumbles down the stairs and into the kitchen. The house looks empty. She pours herself a glass of what tastes like the best liquid in the universe and falls into one of the vacant chairs around the table.

_Where is everyone?_

She tries to recall last night. She remembers Elijah coming to the house to make a deal, she remembers waking up and discovering herself inside a car, driving out of Mystic Falls with Matt and after that… blank.

Well, since she is home, they obviously came back. And had one hell of a bender?

The front door clicks and a moment later Stefan and Damon come into the kitchen. They look about as glum as if they'd just attended a funeral (minus the black clothes).

"How are you?" Stefan asks at length, all soft and careful like he's waiting for her to have a meltdown or something.

"As good as could be expected after a night like the last," she answers wryly and gets up to refill her glass.

The look they give her is pitying. She frowns slightly. Her state is unpleasant, sure, but not _that_ bad. She's had nasty hangovers before.

"So how was your morning?" she says with a more positive voice (which takes quite a bit of work to manage). "And why so grim?"

In an instant their expressions turn into something akin to shocked and they exchange a meaningful glimpse she can't decipher.

"What do you remember about last night, exactly?" Damon asks and for once there is no sarcastic smirk accompanying his query, just a suspicious little frown.

Suddenly Elena feels self-conscious. "Not much," she admits, embarrassedly averting her eyes. "But I have a killer hangover to act as a clue."

Again, their eyes widen and their shoulders roll back uncomfortably.

"We brought you this," Damon says as he lays a bag of blood onto the kitchen table.

Her face turns sour. "Ew! _Why_ would you bring me blood?" she glances at both of them like they'd gone crazy. Again, the looks of shock on their faces make her want to laugh for some weird reason. "I'd rather have a Bloody Mary, if you don't mind."

"Elena," Stefan starts and now his tone is so gentle that his words come out almost in a whisper. "You need blood to complete your transition."

She shakes her head, eyes disbelieving. "_What_ on earth are you talking about? The only transition I need to complete is one from a poisonous hangover to good, clear sobriety."

"Elena," Damon tries and his tone is very different from his brother's, precise and devoid of any emotion. "You _died._"

"No, I didn't," she argues, her voice growing high-pitched. What they say is ludicrous, after all. She didn't _die_ last night. She'd remember a "little" thing like that.

"I'm so sorry, Elena," Stefan mutters.

"Don't apologize!" She's getting angry. "I'm _not _dead." She gives them a small burst of laughter just to illustrate the ridiculousness of their implications.

Both of their mouths open in unison, although they seem to be in a bit of a trouble with coming up with what to say to her. So for a while they just glance between each other and Elena, lips pursed like fish. Just when she senses one of them is about to start, she jumps up preventively and announces that she needs to get properly dressed.

They don't argue, instead looking rather relieved that they'd have a little extra time with putting together whatever they want her to understand. What they don't know is that she isn't interested in understanding anything.

* * *

"You _have got_ to be kidding me," Damon says through gritted teeth, gripping the windowsill as he leans over the edge to look down from the window in Jeremy's room.

Stefan runs his hand through his hair. "Yeah, didn't expect that…"

"Told you nobody showers for _that_ long," Damon adds, not nearly as satisfied with his deduction as he would like to be.

Stefan joins him at the window and pulls up the rope made out of bed sheets. "I still can't believe it worked, though," he says contemplatively.

Damon shoots him a cheerless smirk.

"So she's lost it," he concludes. "Happens to the best of us."

Stefan moves across the room and tinkers with one of Jeremy's drawers as if something has caught his eye. "More than you think," he says finally. "I could have sworn there was a bag with Jeremy's stash here like two days ago."

"Been smoking, brother?" Damon sneers.

Stefan raises an eyebrow and presses his lips together. "No, but I'm pretty sure I know who's about to."

"Maybe that's a good thing?" Damon muses. "If getting stoned helps Elena to come to terms with what's happened to her, then I'm all for it."

"I guess," Stefan agrees. "Only I'm not sure she should be left unsupervised."

"Yea, not a chance at that," Damon says. After one last glance out of the window, he turns around on his heels, heading for the door. "I can do a food run if she gets the munchies or carry her upstairs if she falls asleep and drools all over the couch as long as we can insert the truth somewhere in the middle and feed her some blood."

Stefan gives his brother a measuring gaze before he follows him out. "Admit it though, you want a drag."

Damon turns his head to look at him. A lazy grin spreads across his face. "So you _have_ been smoking…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Denial Is Just a River In Egypt**

**2**

"What?" Caroline snaps as she flings open the front door.

Her boyfriend died _yesterday,_ she's going crazy with grief and exhaustion, and yet she finds the Salvatore brothers rapping on his door at 10 o'clock in the morning. What the hell is wrong with the world?

Damon, impatient as always, purses his lips, ready to say something rude, no doubt, but Stefan beats him to it.

"Hey, Caroline," he starts apologetically. "I'm really sorry we're bothering you, but is Elena, by any chance, here?"

She stares at them for a moment, trying to piece together the picture that's forming before her eyes.

"Oh, no, you didn't…" she mumbles and sighs incredulously.

"Oh, yes, we did," Damon confirms. This characteristic flash of a smile flickers across his face, leaving his eyes as cold as ever, and Caroline can just tell how annoyed he is by having to actually say the words.

"You lost her _before_ she completed the transition?" she clarifies.

"Uh-uh," Damon says absent-mindedly and then he does the weirdest thing – he looks over her shoulder and sniffs. Like _sniffs._

Caroline's brow creases. "What are you doing?"

Damon gives her a look as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Stefan actually laughs a bit, albeit mirthlessly.

"We think she nicked a bag of Jeremy's weed," Stefan explains.

"You are joking, right?" Caroline says, looking from one brother to another.

Damon just sways on the balls of his feet like he's killing time waiting for the bus. Stefan appears actually uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze, his shoulders hunched and eyes downcast.

"It's true," Stefan finally says, even though he doesn't have to.

Caroline shakes her head. "And you thought she would come here, to the sheriff's house, no less, to smoke pot?" she asks, then raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Elena doesn't smoke pot."

"She does today," Damon announces.

"She's obviously in denial," Stefan reasons.

"Yea, she thinks she's having a killer hangover," Damon adds.

"_What?_" Caroline cannot believe this. "It's ridiculous!" She thinks for a while. "Although… I guess the symptoms of transitioning do _kind _of remind you of a hangover."

* * *

The so-called investigation of the "mysterious disappearance of Elena Gilbert" leads them to the town square. Mostly because they don't know where else to look.

She's not in Bonnie's house. She or Jeremy would surely let them know if a transitioning vampire in a dire need of blood would show up. Matt's in the hospital, Tyler is…

"So where is she? Where would she go?" Caroline asks helplessly.

Stefan's kind of glad she insisted on coming with them. Caroline's a great friend, of course, who would do anything for Elena, but he thinks it's also good that she's out of the house and not sinking into a deeper state of depression over Tyler. She needs a break.

Damon closes his eyes and fakes going into some sort of trance. "Alright. I'm Elena Gilbert," he states and both Stefan and Caroline stifle a laugh. "And I'm trying to escape the fact that I'm dead. I leave my house and–"

Caroline is on her toes with anticipation and Stefan finds himself leaning closer to his brother. "_And?_" they both say in unison.

"–and I have the intention of getting high so–"

"Damon hasn't got a clue," Caroline sighs, exasperated.

Stefan chuckles. "She's got you there, brother. You don't really make a good Elena."

Damon ignores their japes. His eyes remain closed as he moves his hands around his head as if he's trying to summon some revelation.

"–so I go to the town square and light up a joint," he concludes, opening his lids to gaze at them with smug satisfaction.

"Now you're just making stuff up," Caroline says.

But instead of replying to her accusation, Damon starts walking towards one of the mighty oak trees with a decisive stride.

Stefan and Caroline jog behind him, yelling questions at him as to where he's going.

Damon slips past the park bench and crouches at the base of the tree. He's hand hovers above the grassy ground until he picks up a butt of a joint, turns around and waves it at them proudly.

"Okay, you smelled that, didn't you?" Stefan says, his hands folded across his chest. "My brother, the narcotics dog."

"Wait, how do you know Elena smoked it?" Caroline argues.

"Well," Damon falters. He rolls the stub between his fingers, examining. "It's not as if I could go all CSI on this, but what I _can_ tell is that… that it's been recently smoked, _today,_ probably not more than an hour or two ago. I mean how many little junkies does this town have running around anyway?"

"Fair point," Stefan nods and looks at Caroline for agreement.

She scans the surroundings with a determined expression on her face. "Alright, guys!" she begins, smiling brightly, and anyone could tell she has a plan forming in her head. "Let's say that Elena _was_ here, smoking weed. What's her next step?" Before they can answer, she holds out a finger for silence. "A rhetorical question. She would get the munchies and head to the Grill for food! Right?"

Damon gives her an appraising look, shaking his head mockingly and smirking. "_Oh, Blondie,_ who would have pegged you for a stoner?"

"I just watch a lot of TV and–"

This time it's Damon holding up a hand to stop her rambling. "_That_, my friend, was a rhetorical question, so no need to cook up feeble excuses."

* * *

"_Elena_, you know. Medium height, straight brown hair," Caroline explains to the bartender who's puzzled by the sudden invasion of questions. "Has she been here today?"

"Probably ordered too much food for her size," Damon throws in.

The bartender nods. "Yeah, I recognize Elena. You're all kind of regulars around here." He wipes the counter as if to deliberately draw this out painfully slowly. "She must have left like forty minutes ago. Must have been in a hurry, because she forgot to pay her bill." He eyes them expectantly.

Damon snorts and Stefan sighs resignedly. "Sure, I'll take care of it," the latter says. "What did she order?"

The bartender shuffles through his papers and pulls out a receipt. "A bacon-cheese burger, chilly-cheese fries, buffalo chicken wings, two pieces of apple pie with vanilla ice cream and three Bloody Mary's," he recites in a droning voice.

"One _hell_ of a munchies if you ask me," Damon mutters.

"Nobody asked," Stefan retorts under his breath and smirks at his brother's annoyed expression.

"Three Bloody Mary's?" Caroline says, clearly angered by the barkeep's ignorance. "You _do_ know she's underage?"

"Excuse me?" the man responds. "To my knowledge, she is not."

"Did you ask for her ID?" Caroline presses.

The bartender's gaze swipes over each of them as he smiles sheepishly. "Uh, I…"

Damon turns around guiltily, aiming his back at the barkeep as he regards both Caroline and Stefan warily. "So yeah, there was this time, we were playing pool here, and I _may_ have compelled the staff to think Elena is twenty-one."

"_Why_ would you need to do that when you were playing pool?" Stefan says, his eyebrow quirked.

"Alright, alright, playing pool _and_ drinking. There you have it! Big bad Damon is a terrible influence on young girls!" Damon cries, throwing his hands in the air.

"Tell me something I don't know," Caroline sighs, clearly annoyed. "You know, whatever, doesn't matter. So where do we go next?"

"No, no," Damon says sweetly and swags his index finger at her. "Where would _Elena_ go next?"

Caroline rolls her eyes.

* * *

It is past 9 o'clock in the evening as the band of three finds themselves in the Salvatore boarding house.

Stefan is pacing the floor, clearly agitated, Damon is sipping his third glass of bourbon, and Caroline is sitting on the couch, chewing her lip as she goes through her phone.

"This is bad," she whispers, scrolling her contacts in hope of finding someone she hasn't called yet to inquire about Elena's whereabouts. "This is really, _really_ bad."

"Elena never wanted to be like this," Stefan mutters, his eyes on the amber liquid he swirls around in his tumbler. "In the end it is her choice if she doesn't…"

"Shut up, you two," Damon growls from the armchair, "you're acting hopeless! We _will _find her and we _will_ get her to come around!"

"Damon, Stefan is right. In the end it is _her_ choice," Caroline inserts miserably. She cannot lose her best friend, she just can't. But she might anyway. She can't do this... She's Caroline, she's stronger than that. "You know, guys, it's pointless to speculate. There might not even be anything to worry about, Elena might be feeding on some innocent bystander as we speak!"

Just when Damon is about to retort, his phone goes off. He gives a quick glance at the caller ID before he answers with an exasperated sigh.

"You know, you're about the last person I want to hear from right now."

* * *

_In the next part we'll actually see Elijah, too. Anyway, all comments are welcome, as always. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Denial Is Just a River In Egypt**

**3**

_Hours earlier_

Elijah sets his travel bag on the porch and fumbles his pockets for the key.

He can't believe he's back in Mystic Falls after being absent for exactly _one_ day. When his sister called him and insisted on coming back, telling him she had something of utmost importance to say to him and refusing to leave before she had, Elijah felt he had no other choice but to turn back.

Knowing Rebekah, he suspects the worst. Well, assuming they can meet before the hunter stakes them both… Damn his stubborn, reckless, imprudent siblings. When will this madness ever end?

He opens the door and steps into the dark foyer, clicking on the light. The house is mostly quiet, only the flickering light of the TV visible from the other room. Elijah listens to the muffled sound.

"Rebekah, please tell me you are not watching–" He can't help the annoyed sigh that escapes him. "–'My Super Sweet 16' again?"

No answer.

"I'll freshen up, if you don't mind, and we can talk then," he calls out and heads upstairs. He shakes his head, frowning and wondering to himself what is that peculiar smell that's mingled into the air downstairs. He hopes Rebekah's not trying to "cook" again. Last time the microwave exploded.

30 minutes later as Elijah descends downstairs again, nothing has really changed. The house is dark and quiet save for the TV and soft lamp-light of the living room. He goes to the kitchen and pours himself a drink, bracing himself for Rebekah's "talk". It just cannot be good, he can feel it.

"Rebekah?" he says loudly and looks towards the archway leading to the other room. "Can I get you a drink?"

Still nothing.

He thinks for a second before filling another tumbler with ice cubes and scotch.

"So tell me, what is it you wanted to talk about?" he asks as he enters the living room, a glass in both hand.

First thing he notices is that it is not 'My Super Sweet 16' that occupies the TV screen. Animal Planet, instead. _Hmm…_ The second thing he notices is that it is not Rebekah who occupies the couch but a small frame, hidden under a blanket, with only a messy heap of brown hair sticking out.

Elijah comes to a sudden halt. He doesn't appreciate surprises. Never has.

He sets the tumblers aside and approaches the girl prudently. Not that he's afraid or even concerned. Frankly, he has very few things that might concern him (mostly blood related). He's just baffled. It makes no sense. What is a stranger doing on their couch, by the look of it, slumbering as if she felt right at home? Has Rebekah made… _friends?_ That just can't be right…

Then his eyes zero in on the tasteful crystal ashtray that lies on the living room table, filled with remnants of smoking and two what seem to be hand-rolled cigarette stubs. _Ah,_ Elijah thinks, finally satisfied with a sufficient explanation – their lavish and conveniently empty residence has apparently attracted a young delinquent.

He prods her with one finger. Hardly a very gentlemanly act, but she obviously needs to go and shouting throughout the house has thus far had no effect. It is really for her own good because when Rebekah shows up, and that should be any moment, she might end up never leaving this house at all. At least not alive.

She stirs slightly, makes a whining sound and kicks him with her feet, which leaves Elijah staring with utter distaste. "Five more minutes, mom," she mutters through her sleep and as soon as Elijah hears the tone of her voice, his eyes widen in shock as he recognizes it.

"_Elena?_" he all but yells.

Her head shoots up from the pillow, whipping around wildly. Brown strands fall away from her face to bare her confused and sleepy eyes. "What? Where am I?" she says groggily.

"You appear to be having a nap on my brother's couch," Elijah says, dazed.

"Oh, yes," Elena breathes with relief. Then her eyes grow bigger and land on his face. "Wait, what are you doing here? Didn't you leave?"

"I did," he says dryly, "which still does not quite explain you breaking in for a nap."

"Is that for me?" she asks, ignoring his comment, and, without really waiting for an answer, she reaches out to one of the tumblers and takes a sip. Elijah just watches, the frown back in his features. Something is definitely amiss.

What happens next bewilders him even more. Elena pulls out a zip-lock bag, retrieves a joint and lights it up, right in the middle of their living room without any considerations.

"What's happened?" he blurts and quickly grasps for his own drink. There is something indifferent about Elena, as if she's stopped caring for both herself and common courtesy.

She shrugs and blows out a wisp of smoke. "Just having a particularly bad day." She taps the joint against the rim of the ashtray, not looking at him.

"Yes?" he says in a tone that demands an explanation.

Then she does look at him and there's something hard, steely about her gaze. "Well," she states, feigning like she's trying to recall something, "first I thought I had this awful hangover… Then I remembered that your sister killed me."

He's dumbstruck.

"Want a drag?" Her hand stops mid-air, passing him the joint.

He looks at the smoking spliff and then at her. For a split second the anger and annoyance with his siblings passes over his face. "To hell with it," he grumbles and accepts the joint. He'd promised not to smoke since Woodstock but… well, it's not as if he gave his word.

* * *

_1 hour later_

"What the devil?!"

When Rebekah gets home she's greeted by a mostly dark house and a cloud of smelly smoke.

It's in the living room she finds the culprits of this predicament.

"It's the yellow button! Yellow one jumps!" Elena explains hastily, seated somewhere in the haze of the dimly lit room.

"Are you positive? It doesn't seem to work," Elijah ponders, leaning forward calmly, a controller in his hands, and staring at the TV screen where a tiny man in overalls and a red cap bolts around. "Hmm, there is an awful lot of lava in this castle, which makes little sense if you think about it…"

Elena laughs and exclaims that he has to avoid it at all cost because apparently lava kills.

Rebekah snaps out of her speechless state of only gaping at them. She coughs loudly to draw their attention.

"Is it food?" Elijah inquires, his eyes steadily fixed on the game. "I must point out that they might not deliver to this address since Kol… ate the last pizza delivery guy."

"You're telling me this _now?_"

Another rumbling cough.

Finally, Elena's gaze finds the new arrival. "Oh, no," she sighs, irritated, "it's _Rebekah_."

"It's _Rebekah?_" she nearly shouts with frustration. "What am I? A leper?"

"In my eyes, _yes,_" Elena says. "A murdering one at that."

"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?" Elijah asks, motioning towards Elena with his head while his gaze never strays from the screen.

"Maybe," she answers petulantly.

"And we _will_ talk about it," Elijah goes on, his voice turning very serious for a moment, "as soon as I kill this– this little dragon-like monster."

Elena is distracted for the time being. "It's Iggy Koopa, the tyrant of Yoshi Island! Jump on him! Jump on him!"

"It's not that easy," Elijah interjects, his forehead creased with concentration, "that board-thing is moving!"

"Get him to the lava!"

"Sounds overly cruel…"

"You have to! He won't die otherwise," Elena whines, her hands risen to her face in anticipation.

"I'm trying!"

Victorious music starts playing then, the screen darkening.

"You did it!" Elena shouts.

"I did," Elijah says, surprised at his success.

"_Oh, God,"_ Rebekah groans, thoroughly annoyed. "I'm leaving!"

Nobody stops her as she marches out of the house, closing the door with earth-shattering force. Honestly, she's rather relieved. Elijah is going to be _so mad_ at her once the effects of pot wear off. Maybe Elena can keep him high forever?

* * *

"You're growing weaker," Elijah observes after pausing the game to look at her. "You need to feed."

Elena sighs and lights another joint as if the very mentioning of her choice-to-be-made is driving her towards renewing her high. But it has another side effect – she feels as if the walls made of doubts and past betrayals vanish between them with every whiff of smoke blown out.

"I know," she admits.

They smoke in silence for a while, letting the wave of calmness and ease wash over them.

"I don't know what to do," Elena says at length.

"I know it's a very important decision," Elijah contributes, "but all I can think about right now is how I want to keep playing this game and listening to– what did you say this was?"

"Bob Marley," Elena tells her absent-mindedly. "How do you even have all this stuff?"

"The console is Kol's and I think the record collection is mostly Klaus'."

Elena laughs a bit. "Your family is weird."

"You have no idea."

They smoke in silence again, both deep in their thoughts.

"So how about it, Elena?" Elijah says as he stubs out the finished joint. "How about agreeing that neither of us ruins this evening by dying?"

She thinks on it, sipping her scotch.

"If you're implying what I think you're implying, if you have become truly indifferent to death, even just for now, you are free forever. That is not a feeling you can ever forget. Don't throw that away. After all, you'll always have time to die tomorrow," he tells her, a warm understanding shining in his gaze. It makes him look so much younger.

Suddenly her lips crack into a grin. "You know what? You're right! So what if I have to drink some blood and will want to murder people? I can always lock myself into the house with TV and books and video games."

"That's the spirit," Elijah chuckles and stands up to go to the kitchen.

* * *

"_You know, you're about the last person I want to hear from right now."_ Rude!

"Well, yes, but I felt it necessary to inform you of the whereabouts of our mutual friend," Elijah speaks into the cell phone.

"_What? Where is she?"_Damon's impatient voice demands.

After downing a glass of blood, Elena remembered that she should let her friends know that she's alright. She feels bad for making them worry but she really needed some time to work things out without any pressure.

"She's with me," Elijah says.

Of course in her haste, she'd forgotten her phone at home, which happened to be the perfect excuse to ask Elijah to call instead. She figures he'll be better at evading the questions since she doesn't want to go home yet (she feels like a small child out past curfew and it makes her laugh at the ridiculousness).

"No, we're _not_ at the mansion." So maybe not particularly good at evading questions… When did he become such a poor liar? She could probably pin it on the pot.

Elena forgets to pay attention to the rest of the conversation but when Elijah slides his phone on the living room table, he says, "I believe it didn't work out quite the way I had planned."

"Oh, really?" she smirks.

"Yes, I expect your friends will arrive shortly."

"Yeah, I have to go home," she sighs and feels a sudden surge of sadness envelope her at having to face the reality again. "I owe it to them. I've acted… irresponsibly today, selfishly."

Elijah smiles. He wishes she didn't have to go. Unexpectedly, this day has turned out to be most enjoyable in a while.

They just sit for a while, listening to the music, until Elena breaks the silence again.

"It's strange and really, _really_ astounding," she says, "but today's been… uhm, kind of awesome. Thanks to you."

Just then a car horn blares from outside, signaling the arrival of her friends.

They both look towards the window but neither move.

"Good-night, Elena, and good luck," Elijah says.

Elena's smile widens. "Good-night," she whispers and suddenly leaps forward, kissing him. It's a decision she makes in the spur of the moment but she knows there's just no way she could regret it.

At first, he's stunned but then he relaxes, kissing her back. His hands weave into her hair and he pulls her closer to him so she's almost on his lap. After another blast of the horn, they break apart, both slightly disheveled.

"Elena!" Elijah says, a hand over his heart, feigning shock. "If I'd known marijuana did such a number on you–"

"Oh, no," she stops him playfully, "don't delude yourself. I'd kiss you whether I'm stoned, drunk or sober."

"Why now, then?"

"What can I say," she shrugs as if stating some universal truth, "I love a man who can play Mario. This was the last straw, I couldn't help myself."

"You are an odd one, Elena."

"Only when I'm high. Otherwise I'm much too proper," she says and smiles brightly.

"That's what I love about you."

She places another peck on his lips before jumping up.

"Text me!" she calls out as she heads for the foyer. Just when he thinks she's gone, her head pops back through the archway to add "and don't play Mario without me! I want to see what's up on Donut Plains!" before she flies out of the door.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!_


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